


Conception (All Things)

by IneffableFangirl_writes



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, First Time, Missing Scene, Mulder and Scully Big Bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-02-23 10:33:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23843371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableFangirl_writes/pseuds/IneffableFangirl_writes
Summary: This takes place during Season 7’s “All Things”, after Scully falls asleep on Mulder’s couch but before the opening shot of her getting dressed in his bathroom.I don't give a shit if CSM said he fathered Scully's  baby, he's a narcissistic egomaniac who wants to be involved with everything and I maintain that he's lying.Taken from the backlog of fic on my computer, happy quarantine everyone.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Kudos: 64





	Conception (All Things)

She woke up on his couch. It was dark and there was a crick in her neck. Beside her the fishtank bubbled and the TV set hummed faintly. Over her, the blanket was warm but scratchy and her clothes felt stiff and strange in comparison to her usual silky pajamas. Even thinking about the past few days was odd. Waking up on Mulder’s couch in the middle of the night was the least strange, but still disconcerting. 

With a grunt, she twisted her neck from one side to the other, loosening the tightness in her neck and shoulders. Yawning, she padded to the kitchen sink and filled a glass. Against the edge of the counter she leaned, sipping the water as she thought about Daniel, about Mulder, about change and belief. Another sip, another thought. How many paths were there in life? If this was where she was meant to be, had always meant to end up, then why the illusion of choice? Why the wondering and trying to make the right decision? Why the struggle to be on the correct path?

Draining her glass, Scully set it down and walked back into the living room, stood beside the coffee table and watched the fish. They had no path, just a tank, well lit and clean. They were fed regularly and did not wonder if this way was correct or what would become of them. It was a position both enviable and horrifying to contemplate. If nothing else, the choice (or its illusion) gave her a sense of control. Being boxed up in a tank with nothing else in life reminded her of abduction. It still only came in flashes, but one flickered in her memory, the lights bright as she lay on a cold table, unable to move. Thankfully, a sound from Mulder’s room broke through the memory and she turned towards his open door, walking over to peer around the frame.

Streetlights filtered through his blinds, casting slatted cold light across his face, eyes closed, mouth slightly open. The covers tangled around his legs and his t-shirt rode up to expose a couple of inches of skin on his belly. Glowing red, the numbers on his alarm clock proclaimed it to be 1:30AM. She leaned against the frame and it creaked, startling Mulder into shifting in bed. He mumbled something and she smiled fondly.

“Scully?” He raised his head, voice sleep-muddled. “That you?”

“Yeah,” she replied softly. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Everything okay?”

“I’m fine, Mulder.”

“You sure?”

He was sitting up now, though he drooped a bit, his body reaching back towards the mattress.

“I’m sure.”

He beckoned with one hand.

“C’mere.”

“Mulder, I’m fine.”

“Just c’mere.”

She obeyed, tentatively crossing the room in her stockinged feet until she was standing next to the bed. 

“It’s been a weird few days, huh?”

“It’s 1:30 in the morning, Mulder. We can talk about this tomorrow.”

“It is tomorrow. Sit down.” He was beginning to sound less drowsy.

She sat, the mattress absorbing her weight and they were both silent.

“Did you mean it?” she asked suddenly.

“Mean what?”

“That everything lead to us here right now. That our whole lives have been working towards this moment and everything that happens after?”

“I think it’s possible,” Mulder said. 

“So me, being here in your room at 1:30AM is fate?”

Mulder shrugged.

“Could be.”

“And anything that happens here on out is fate?”

“Depends, I guess.”

Something in his tone made Scully look up and meet his eyes.

“On what?” she asked.

His voice was a little lower when he replied.

“On what happens next.”

She wet her lips, suddenly unsure of what to say and Mulder leaned towards her.

“What does happen next?” she whispered, leaning in a little as well.

“Whatever you want to.”

Gently, he brushed his lips against hers. He was warm and his mouth was hesitant, careful...right. It was right. Like it was supposed to be there and had been waiting to be there for years. When he pulled away after a moment, he looked at her again, waited for a reaction.

Leaning in, she pressed her mouth to his and they were kissing, gently at first and then more confidently, more certain. He tasted like he had at New Year’s but it was better, better because she didn’t have to stop with just one kiss. She could keep kissing Mulder as long as she wanted to. And she wanted to, the act of kissing him making her want to kiss him more, an infinite loop of kissing and being kissed. His hand rested on her lower back and she cupped his face in her hands, cradling it until one hand crept to the back of his neck and the other reached up to explore his hair. Taking that as encouragement, he placed his other hand on her thigh and a jolt of heat shot through her. 

The hand on the back of his neck slid down his spine, ran over his hipbone and settled on his upper thigh, her thumb drawing circles on his pajama pants. He slipped his tongue over her bottom lip, tasting and in response she nipped at his lip, sparking a little gasp. He pulled his mouth away momentarily.

“You bit me!”

“Barely.”

She hesitated, scanning his face, checking to make sure this was a good idea, that she wasn’t making a mistake, that her body following what her mind and heart had told her for years wasn’t just a wrong turn. He pulled her closer and pressed a kiss to her mouth.

“Do it again.”

The next nip was to his neck and the sound he made, part sigh part moan, was incentive for her to keep doing it. When his shirt got in the way, she simply lifted it over his head and tossed it onto the floor.

“No fair,” he protested, hands skimming up and down her ribs.

“What?” She pressed kisses up along his jawline, gently bit on his earlobe.

“My shirt’s off and yours isn’t.”

He could almost hear the eyeroll that accompanied her response.

“So fix it.”

No man in history had ever refused an offer to remove Dana Scully’s shirt and Mulder wasn’t about to break that streak. The green knit came off and joined his white t-shirt on the floor. He traced the lines of her bra with his fingertips, surprised when she made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a purr. He repeated the motion, tracing where fabric and skin met, and to his delight, she made the noise again. As she traced his collarbone with her lips, kisses interspersed with gentle bites, he ran his hands down the slope of her breasts, stroking them gently before his fingers curled around their sides.

Her mouth was distracting enough but her hands only added to it, tracing the lines of muscle in his back, running nails gently up his spine and back to the waist of his pajama pants. Pulling her closer, he settled her practically in his lap and kissed her jaw right below her earlobe. When she sighed and offered her throat he accepted, placing careful kisses along her jawline. While she had bitten him, he did not return the gesture. Each brush of his lips was measured, careful, as though she were made of crystal and he didn’t want to risk breaking her. His hands wandered from her navel to her neck, making sure to give her breasts a stroke whenever he encountered them. As his mouth moved back up along her jaw, she sighed, arching her back momentarily. 

“Scully” he whispered, lips brushing her earlobe.

“What?” 

“I’m going to take this off, okay?” His fingers rested on the clasp of her bra, awaiting permission.

“Mmm-hmm.”

He undid her bra and slid the straps from her shoulders before adding it to the pile of clothing on the floor. With the same tenderness, he cupped her breasts in his palms, using his thumbs to circle the areolas before giving both nipples a simultaneous stroke. 

The reaction was instant, a gasp and gentle jerk of her hips as well as the reward of feeling her nipples stiffen. She crushed her mouth against his once more, and he stroked her nipples again, earning a purr and her hips pushing gently against his belly. He could feel his erection, now pressing against the underside of her thigh, and tried to will it away. It had taken seven years to get this far and he didn’t want to scare her away, but his body had no such qualms. He tried to ignore it and instead began kissing down her neck, across her collarbone and down one breast until he could take the nipple into his mouth and swirl his tongue over it. Another gasp and her hands tightened on his shoulders. He ran his teeth over the nipple, not pressing or biting, just enough to feel the flesh slide over them. This time she moaned softly and ground her hips against him.

He was preparing to try again when Scully’s hand began toying with the tie of his pajama bottoms and when he realized that she wasn’t just toying, she was undoing the tie, he ran her nipple over his teeth again, eliciting a moan. She’d undone the tie to his pajama bottoms and was trying to slide them down, impossible with her on his lap. 

“Let’s try this,” He murmured, and slid her onto the bed beside him before slipping out of his pajama pants. He reached over to help her undo her skirt and found her already trying to manage the zipper. After a moment, it was on the floor as well and he was kissing her belly, down to the waist of her underwear. Skipping over the fabric entirely, he kissed the top of one thigh, then around it, tasting the sweat on her inner thigh down to the back of her knee and then back up. Then the other thigh, the other knee, her belly again. Her breasts, one by one, followed by her neck. His hands were moving of their own volition, caressing every inch of skin he could reach while she ran fingers through his hair, traced the lines of muscle on his arms, his back. Except suddenly her hand was not on his back, it was tracing the seams on his boxers and then drawing a line that felt like fire along his cloth-covered length. 

“Scully,” he gasped. 

She kissed him in response and he pulled them both down so they were lying side by side. While their lips moved against each other, he tentatively slipped a finger under the waistband of her underwear, felt the curls of hair above her sex. It was dark but he wondered if they were as red as her other hair. When he reached the juncture between her legs and paused, she purred again, lifting her hips so his fingers pressed against her. It took only a few seconds for him to pull her underwear to her knees so she could kick it off and let his fingers roam, exploring her, feeling her. Judging by the sounds that she made, she was enjoying it.

“Mulder,” she moaned when he found her clitoris and began to circle it. “Mulder  _ please _ .”

Pulling at his boxers, she reached for him and in a jolt of heat, curled her hand around his penis and was stroking.

“Hang on.” Panting, he shimmied out of his boxers, kicked them onto the floor. And then she was hovering over him, face suddenly vulnerable, questioning.

“ _ Yes _ ,” he replied, and she sunk onto him, surrounding him, overwhelming him with her warm wetness. It felt better than he remembered sex being. It felt like coming home. Just as he thought he could manage the sensation, she began to move. 

He raised his hips to meet hers, thrusting upward into her. Breathing raggedly, she rested her hands on his shoulders, anchoring herself to him. Their bodies formed a rhythm, a rise and fall as they moved together, gasping interspersed with kisses. One of his hands twisted her nipple gently between his fingers and the other was roving in the place just above where they were joined.

“Mulder!” she gasped as he found her clitoris again, began to rub it in time to their thrusts. 

He might have replied with her name if he could process words at the moment, but he couldn’t. There was nothing but her, nothing but Scully around him and through him, the sight of her, the sound of her breathing, the little noises she made as she moved. He could feel his pleasure rising and he intensified the rubbing of her clitoris, determined to make sure she finished before he did. 

“Mulder…Mulder...oh God...Mulder.”

He could hear her falling to pieces, feel her body begin to lose its rhythm and he thrust harder, twisted her nipple and rubbed over and over until she was shaking, her entire body beginning to spasm. And

“Mulder...Fox!”

She orgasmed with his name on her lips and that, along with the sight of her writhing above him, swept whatever control he had aside. His hips jerked and he felt his eyes close, his head tilt back as he spilled himself into her in waves that slowed and slowed and eventually stopped.

Instead of letting her roll off him, he rolled, curled his body around hers as he wrapped an arm around her waist. Pressing his lips to the nape of her neck, he inhaled the scent of her hair. There was so much he wanted to say, wanted to know, but the feeling of her in his arms, warm and soft and utterly relaxed was all the answer he needed for the night.

When he woke up in the morning, she was gone.


End file.
